Triwizard Troubles
by Spheral3
Summary: Edward Elric is sent to bodyguard Harry Potter during the Triwizard Tournament, but found himself in the center of all the commotion. Two transfer students by the name of Sora and Riku have their own secrets, and are keeping an eye on Harry and Edward. Who called the Heartless here? Edward must keep his wits about him if he and Harry are to survive the Tournament. (a redux of T.T.)
1. The Briefing at Midnight

(Before we get this show on the road, I'd like to say a few words to those who are familiar with this title and even were so kind as to support the following installments of this 3-way cross-over. **EdenandDeon was my previous user name.** You can find a detailed description of why I changed it by **clicking onto my name at the top and reading my bio**. I also wish to extend a thank you to those who would flag this story in thinking that it has been stolen. I'm very touched by such loyalty, as this was one of my first successful projects and is closest to my heart. Second, don't be afraid to tell me if there are grammar mistakes. It is my weakest point in writing, and I would appreciate the help. I'll be getting a beta reader soon. Thanks again, and I hope you enjoy the first chapter of the new redux, Triwizard Troubles.)

**The Briefing at Midnight**

**By Spheral3**

Tired and heavy footsteps echoed around the empty halls of the Central State Military office. If one were to listen hard enough, they would be able to recognize the slight chink of metal joints compressing and loosening as the owner pressed weight onto it. Edward Elric blinked under the blaring florescent light, weary from travel. He had arrived in Central not but an hour ago, yet there had been a message waiting for him at the hotel. He pulled out his little state-issued pocket watch, hardly surprised to learn that it was very nearly midnight. A sigh escaped him and he stuffed the silver watch back into the pocket of his crimson coat, taking a moment to think as he brushed a gloved hand through his blond-yellow bangs. They were parted in middle and hung down to border his face. His hair cut certainly wasn't regulation in the army he served. However, being a state alchemist meant having the freedom to dress and style himself however he pleased. The braid that traveled down his neck and ended just at his shoulder blades was proof enough of that fact.

He continued down the hall, dully. He wondered if this meeting had something to do with the paper work he mailed in. He didn't stop to think of the importance of this meeting, or the emergency behind it, if there really was any. Of course the Colonel knew where to find him, or rather, where he would be staying. The Hotel he had checked into was where most military officials checked into in between missions. It held discounts that really couldn't be beat.

Alphonse had been left back at the hotel, a choice made by the rather quick message. It had stated in bold lettering; "_**Please meet me in my office. Come alone-R.M.**_". Alphonse had resolved to unpack and polish his armor for the night, and had wished his brother good luck. Edward had murmured one back, and left his brother the key.

He recalled the message, and suddenly found it odd how very poignant and direct it had been. Then Edward began to grow curious of the circumstances surrounding the late-night summons. His tired mind began to click into a functioning state, remembering exactly who it was that sent him the message. He became surprised that the Colonel was working so late. He checked his watch again and really registered how late it was. The man was an infamous lover of the night, reserving it for women and drinking. What had kept him from his nightlife perked Ed's interest, but not so much that he felt it could wait until morning. He grumbled to himself and continued down the near-abandoned building.

He arrived at the doors to the Colonel's office, taking a moment to compose himself before knocking. He ran his hand through his bangs, a feeble attempt to look presentable. After a day's worth of train travel, he was covered in the sent of smoke and crowds of people, and was in desperate need of a shower. His amber eyes blinked away the sleep, and he put on a more alert expression. He raised a hand to knock, but a laughter caused him to stop short of rapping on the wood. The voice sounded gruff with age, and gentle to the same effect. He knocked, waiting for the Colonel to beckon him in.

Edward opened the door and beheld the scene in front of him with his curiosity peaked. The Colonel sat behind his desk as usual, dressed in his blue uniform that had become crumpled from the day's use. His hair had a slight oily sheen to it, implying that he had not yet had the chance to go home and shower. This sight was less interesting than the man sitting before him.

The stranger did look very old, perhaps in his late sixties. He had a long white beard that ran down his front, and long white hair that ran down his back. His beard was tied in the front with a regular brown hair tie; it seemed unfitting somehow. His blue eyes were almost piercing in the soft yellow light, his gaze striking as he peered over his half-moon spectacles. He wore a kind smile on his face, though he had a knowing look that unnerved Edward.

"Ah, FullMetal," addressed Colonel Mustang, "Come in."

He did so, shutting the door behind him.

"Have a seat; I want you to meet Professor Dumbledore."

Edward drew closer, subtly eyeing the man with his peripherals. He approached Dumbledore, sticking his hand out and greeted him quietly, his mind abuzz with who this man really was. Now that he was closer he could see his dress was…odd. Not so out of place to any normal person's attire, but the color coding was a bit striking. He wore a light pink shirt with a brown vest over it. His pants were corduroy and his shoes were loafers with lime-green socks. He took all this in very quickly as the professor began to speak.

"Ahhh, so you're Edward Elric. I've heard many things about you."

"Have you?"

The old man simply nodded in response. Strange, thought Edward, since the Colonel would know better than to discuss openly about the brothers. He kept his concerns hidden behind a mask of indifference.

"The Colonel and I were just discussing how you came to be employed here. It's quite a feat for someone of your age, as I understand it. You must have had very strong reasons for wanting to join."

Edward thanked him, unsure of how else to respond. He looked to the Colonel for some sign of answer, but received only his stare.

"Please, have a seat," Dumbledore offered the chair that stood behind the boy. He did so, quietly, wishing that the Colonel would be the next one to speak.

"I'm sorry that you were summoned at so late a time, and especially having just gotten off the train, but I felt it necessary to inform you so that your departure tomorrow would not come as such a surprise."

"Departure?" again he turned to the Colonel, looking for any sign of explanation, but there came no reaction.

"I requested your assistance," continued Dumbledore, "A young man of your skill would be of great benefit to myself and one individual in particular."

The Professor reached over and picked up a manila folder from off of Roy's desk and handed it to Edward. The boy took it in hand and opened it. Inside was a typed up file, a picture attached to it. The first thing Edward saw was the stark green color of this boy's eyes behind round, thick-framed glasses. His raven black hair nearly covered all his forehead, save for the part ton his right. On his skin there appeared to be a small scar. It was the shape of a lightning bolt. It was a peculiar scar, Edward noted, looked finely carved and quite old.

"So…any time you want to inform me on what's going on," Edward's eyes glancing to the Colonel, "just go right ahead."

"It's a body guarding mission," his tone flat and dry.

Edward's attention snapped back up to the Colonel, shutting the folder with one hand.

"Wanna run that by me again?"

"You heard me," his tone still flat, "It's a body guarding mission."

"Body guarding? We're not a rent-a-cop agency, we're the military."

"You're an officer. An officer is assigned missions by his superior, some of which entitle body guarding of certain persons. This is no different than that."

"A boy, a," Edward looked at the file name "Harry Potter? Some kid? The military is wasting resources and time on guarding a civilian?"

"Read the file," said Roy, his voice hinting towards irritation. Edward grumbled and continued. He skimmed it quickly, noting the alarming amount of strange words that he could just barely pronounce. His eyes did register the word assassination, and he paused there. He read it over, quietly to himself.

"An assassination attempt...a few months old…failed?"

"He is no ordinary boy," said Dumbledore. "and ever since then he's still been in danger of being attacked."

"Why? What's so special about him?"

"Allow me to explain something first. Inside the folder you have there is a short biography of the boy's life up until now, there should be enough in it to allow for any explanation as to why this boy would need such protection, but I feel we have started this meeting out all wrong. Let me first tell you where it is you are being sent, Mr. Elric."

"Is it out of town?"

Dumbledore looked to Edward with the same gaze he first gave Edward.

"You will find that this place is not unlike your own. Its people are a kindly sort, most of them. There is a divide between them at this time, but peace has managed to spread and there is tolerance amongst many. At the head of our people is a Minister, like the Furor of your nation. A Ministry that regulates, researches, and upholds the laws with a firm hand. Yet where the difference comes in is but a small fact, that indeed where there would be Alchemy, there is but Magic in it's place."

There was a pause, Dumbledore waited for a response.

Edward studied his face, his old wrinkly face, for any signs that would give away the belief in what he stated. There was nothing to betray those words, just the knowing glint in his eye. Edward felt something inside him stir, he wasn't sure if it was anger or disgust. His tore his gaze away from Dumbledore, wishing the man would do his the same kindness.

"What is this?" he spat at Colonel Mustang. The man remained silent, staring at Edward as though he had said nothing. "I said what is this?" he repeated, a choked laugh making its way out from in him. "Magic. Magic?" he turned back to Dumbledore, who looked at him calmly. The old man said not a word, waiting expectantly, as though he were a man with infinite patience. This sight only served to irritate Edward further. Edward eyed him quickly then turned back to the Colonel. They both seemed so solemn, too serious for it to be a joke. There was heaviness in the air, it was almost tangible, as if gravity were pulled towards Mustang and his tired eyes. Oh he'd never let is show, his position was upright, his gaze clear and focused, but the strained muscles were all to obvious to Edward, who had looked upon the Colonel before in the darkest of times.

"Cut the joke," Ed demanded.

"It's no joke. You'll be escorting Mr. Potter to Hogwarts and—"

"To where?" he demanded.

"It's a magic school. A place of," he picked up his own file, reading off of it. "Witchcraft and Wizardry. Catchy."

Edward no longer struggled with what he felt. Anger burned within him. Perhaps it was the long hours of travel, or the nagging feeling of grime that begged for a shower that made his temper so short. He hadn't really had a dinner, either. The word Magic, seemed to be a trigger for something inside him though, causing him to stand and turn away.

"I refuse this mission!"

"Tough, you're going."

"Colonel…" he grit his teeth for a moment, biting back the urge to punch him. When quelled, the turned back. "You cannot be serious," he leaned in, "What about the _reason_ why I joined the military in the first place?"

"It's been taken care of."

"Oh really? You hiding one under your desk there?"

"Now listen, you little, unappreciative—"

Dumbledore's voice cut in at that moment, with all the tempered grace a man achieves at his age, yet the demanding presence of someone important.

"I was informed of the struggle which you and your brother share. I also understand the condition you both are in."

Edward's hand instinctively went to his right arm. He was about to speak but Dumbledore continued.

"You are in search of the Philosopher's Stone, or so I have been told. I heard that your recent discovery on the search proved to uncover some unsavory secrets of the stone here. I would like to extend to you the school's library, filled with a number of editorials and articles on the subject of the stone."

There was a pause, the youth's mind raced too fast for him to think straight.

"Then…the stone was made? Successfully? Without the human sacrifices?"

"Yes, but it was destroyed before it could fall into the wrong hands. The records and research by Nicholes Flamel, however, were not."

"Is he the Alchemist who achieved it?"

"His records reside in Hogwarts, where we have kept them safe from anyone who would replicate it for misuse. I extend them unto you, if you extend your help unto us."

Edward stood silent in thought. He studied Dumbledore, but there was no trace or hint that he was lying. Still, such promising hope, in his experience, always seemed to slip through his fingers or fall flat before him. What if the notes bore nothing new to offer, what if it was all just nonsense in some absurd school? What if he and his brother wasted a whole year over in some foreign land, with _nutters_ who believed in magic? He cringed inside, thinking of the half-wits they would meet in such a place. He turned away, looked back to the Colonel, knowing that his face was riddled with uncertainty.

"You don't have a choice, I'm afraid," said the Colonel. "Al will be safe here with us in the military…"

"What do you mean safe here? Why isn't Alphonse coming?"

"It's a covert mission. You don't send a giant hulking suit with you—"

"That _hulking suit_ is my brother!"

"Right, and I can't send him over with you because he will cause a commotion, something that isn't needed in this situation."

"I don't even know what the situation is. I don't even know how long I'll be gone."

"A year."

"What? You expect me to up and leave to some nut-house—"

"Enough!" His voice remained as steely as before, but perhaps a little spark had ignited in his onyx eyes that gave him that edge of anger. "I have given you plenty of leeway up to this point because you are a child—"

"I am not a—"

"You are a soldier," his voice raised, "You take orders and you do what you are told with a "_thank you, sir_"— and then you are out the door! Now act like an adult, and have some damn respect. He's offered up something that is very important to you, and you should know better than to throw kindness back in the face of others."

Edward leaned in slightly closer, his voice dropped down to a harsh whisper.

"But Colonel…my brother and I…I'm all he's got. Please, he needs me."

Mustang's steely gaze softened the next moment, and he backed off.

"I am making sure that he is kept safe, kept watched over, and even kept company. You'll have to trust me when I say there is no way out of this. You are going on this mission. Now please, sit down, the briefing isn't over."

Edward could pick up the hint of pain in the Colonel's voice, but he stubbornly disbelieved that it was out of pity for his and Al's sake. He did, however, sit and turn back to Professor Dumbledore, swallowing the bit of shame the Colonel did manage to press into him about his outburst.

Dumbledore reached down and picked up the file that had dropped from Edward's lap, and handed it back to him.

"Please understand that I am grateful for your help in this matter, and that I mean for this trip to benefit both parties equally."

Edward said nothing and merely opened the file back up, glancing to the boy he was to guard for the next year.

"Now then, where to begin? I suppose we should start simply with what to expect. The schedule at Hogwarts would go along quite normally with classes and holidays all in order. However, this year the school will be hosting a special event. I will not speak what it is yet, but I will say that it is a long-standing tradition and must be followed through for the sake of keeping spirits high and the security of our ways strong. I will also say that it is a competition. Schools from different lands will be coming to participate in this event, and naturally that implies that it is a competition of sorts."

"What kind? Sports? Does it have anything to do with this," he looked back down at the file, "Qui…_Quid-itch_?"

"No, no. That will be placed on hold this semester. This is a competition that ranges in many fields, delves into more than just athletics."

"Okay. So what you're worried about is…what, exactly?"

"While I am not worried about the other schools recognizing Mr. Potter, I will say that the young boy is quite famous and may need some protection against those who would mean to harm him."

"Those who?"

"I cannot give you specifics, and I am sorry for this."

Edward's frown deepened in thought. The Professor was being very vague on the subject. His eyes wandered to the Colonel, looking for more on the matter, but the man just remained looking at him, the ember in his eyes had died down to coal. Edward grimaced and let out a breath.

"Is this all you can tell me? So far what I know is that I'm to protect a famous kid from…anything. Anyone. How about any suspects? Will the attacks be open?"

"I'm sorry to say that there are no real suspects as of now, save for one. He is a dark and powerful man, known to the Wizarding World as Lord Voldemort. However, the first time he had tried to kill Harry, he failed."

"So he was the assassin?"

"He was a powerful leader of a group known as the Death Eaters, but in his attempt to kill young Harry, the plan backfired and ended up being carried out on him."

"So…he's dead?"

"Not dead, but neither is he alive. It is hard to say where he is at this time."

"And nobody has seen him since the first attempt fourteen years ago? Why are you so worried?"

"His followers."

"Oh, I see. Their leader failed, so now they gotta try and carry it out to its end, huh? And you said Voldemort isn't dead?"

"Perhaps he is far gone, perhaps he is closer than we know. It's impossible to say. So you see, I would feel better if there were someone there to aid Mr. Potter if he is in need. As having someone from the Ministry follow him about would be utterly humiliating to a boy his age, I think you would be a much healthier solution to the problem. Imagine my surprise when your name came to be known to me, and I thought what luck it was to find a young man already so accomplished and more than fit to protect the young Mr. Potter."

With that, Dumbledore sat back in his seat, as if to say that the time for questions had ended. Edward was busy in his mind sorting all that he heard, swallowing the voice inside that screamed how ridiculous the whole situation was.

The assignment was simple, if not for the inconvenient circumstance with time and place. Objective clear; protect Harry Potter from whomever should do him harm, so simple that it would allow Edward almost all the time in the world to research the stone. How much harm could come to the boy anyway? He smiled, thinking how easy of an assignment this was.

"Professor Dumbledore," said Edward, "consider Harry James Potter under the best protection. I hope you don't mind the fact that your library will be used to it's fullest for these records."

"I have no doubt," he smiled back. "Good to hear, good to hear."

The old man stood up, looking to the Colonel.

"I dare say it's quite late. I must be off to bed. Thank you for your kindness in accepting my plea for help, and to you too, Major Elric."

"Your welcome Professor," said the Colonel, "Have a safe trip home."

Dumbledore smiled in return, said another goodnight, then turned and walked out. He closed the door behind him gently, leaving the room in hushed silence. Edward turned back to the Colonel, waiting for any last words. The man's gaze had remained on the door for a moment, but his attention snapped quickly back to Edward.

"Everything clear?"

"Like I said," he shrugged, "I understand…I just don't know why you'd accept that nut-bag's help, that is, I _didn't_ until he mentioned the stone."

The boy grinned for the first time that evening.

"You sly bastard. You set this all up to get me closer to the stone. I could hug you for this, but you really should have prepared me or something for all that magic _hooey_. That really threw me for a loop."

Mustang just sat at the table, his eyes remained on Edward.

"By the way," continued Edward, relaxing into his chair, "Where's Hawkeye? Isn't she usually where you are?"

"It's way after hours."

"Oh yeah, forgot in all this mess. Come to think of it, it's not like you to work late. Did that _old conger_ force you to stay up? Are wizards allergic to the sun or something?" he snickered to himself, opening the file. "Oh man, Mustang, you really should see the stuff that's in here. Al's gonna have a laugh once I show him this. Hey did he ever explain what Quidditch—"

"FullMetal," his simple call muddled out whatever else it was the boy was going to say. Edward looked up, surprised by the severe look on his face. "I want you to keep your guard up while you're there, alright? You're going see a lot of things, might not even believe it, that's okay, but keep a clear head about everything. Try not to fly off the handle too much. You're brother's not going to be there to keep you out of trouble, so really, use that head for more than just sleuthing and Alchemy. Keep some common sense with you, all right?"

Things had gone somber a little too quickly for Edward's liking.

"Hey…what is this…? You don't believe what that Dumbledore says, do you? About Dark Wizards and magic?"

"I'm warning you because I want you to come back safely, in one piece…well it's a little late for that. Just try to come back with the all the limbs you left with," he smiled, though it was as tired as he eyes. "Dismissed."

"Colonel you…you're concerned? Why? For what?"

"Dismissed FullMetal. Come on, give me a break and get outta here will you? I wanna go home."

"Alright, I'm gone," he rose out of his seat and left for the door. He almost left when he looked back, noticing that the curtains were drawn. He turned back, and closed the door behind him.

Far off, the troubles of late night worries had worked their way to another young man. The stars twinkled peacefully in the night sky, as clean and crisp as they had before the strange meteor shower only a week before.

Harry Potter's eyes flew open and he sat up in his bed. Having just woken, he remained delirious, and looked about him wildly. He quickly became convinced he was still in his room, at number 4 Private Drive in Little Winging. He let out a breath and fell back onto his damp sheets. He made a face, wondering how much time had passed since the dream had begun. Perhaps it was just coming out of sleep, or maybe it was the adrenaline high dying down, that made his mind realize the source of stabbing pain he was experiencing. He rubbed his old scar tenderly, his finger tips tracing the lightning bolt shape in thought. He rubbed it a little harder, praying quietly for the pain to stop. His deep breaths and massaging was to no avail though, and in a few minutes he'd threw the covers off of himself and stumbled over to his desk. The dream continued to revolve in his mind, and he tried to work it all out. A thought struck him as he looked to the surface of his desk,

"_Should I tell someone?"_

The dream had been so strong and vivid, more like a vision, but of exactly what or when he wasn't sure. He remembered hearing The Dark Lord, Voldemort, speaking with Wormtail. Obscured by the back of an armchair, all that was known of his presence was his voice. It was wheezy and strained, yet he managed to speak clearly enough. There had been some talk of someone having just died in the beginning, then the conversation changed quickly to a subject that Harry wasn't familiar with. The word Heartless had come up, but not as an adjective. He had spoken of the work Heartless as though the name implied…something. An organization maybe? Harry had never heard of them. Voldemort had made the word out to imply as a them.

"_The Heartless, a…something, that would come under his control? Heartless…"_

He dwelled on it, wondering if the word had ever come up before. Yet nothing stood out. He hadn't realized he had been holding his breath until his body demand that he let it out. The chair he once leaned on, he pulled out and sat. His green eyes were dully looking to the wooden surface that was cast in moonlight from his window. His thoughts continued to repeat in his mind, the dream replied over and over again.

_Heartless…_

_Heartless…_

Harry felt a chill run down his spine, remembering Nagini in the dream, hissing the word as well. The whole scene made very little sense, and Harry was almost sure that it had been nothing more than a dream, but the dull ache of his scar caused his heart to throb in worry.

He rubbed his eyes and leaned his head against his palms. His eyes wandered about in the darkened blur of his table, and saw a stark white outline of something. He looked to his immediate right and saw an envelope. He remembered then what it was doing there and who it was from.

"_What did Dumbledore mean…?"_ he wondered. _"Someone to watch out for me… did he mean Sirius?"_

If Dumbledore sensed something was going to go wrong why didn't he just tell him directly? Was it so dangerous?

Once more, the dream replayed in his mind, and he wondered if he should tell Dumbledore about what he had seen. His face scrunched in thought. What would he say in his letter?

"Dear Professor Dumbledore,

Sorry to bother you, but my scar hurt this morning.

Yours sincerely, Harry Potter."

He gave a small groan and lifted his head back up. No, Professor Dumbledore wouldn't do, not on something as small as this. His Godfather was the perfect person to discuss such things with though. He decided, when his owl, Hedwig, came back that he would send Sirius a letter to him straight away. He felt himself more at ease already. Quickly, Harry grabbed his glasses from off the nightstand, and got to work the letter.

By the time he had finished the sun had started to rise and cast the sky in a bright blue light. Pleased with his work, Harry leaned back and read his letter over to himself.

_Dear Sirius,_

_Thanks for your last letter. The bird you sent over was enormous; it could hardly get through my window._

_Things are the same as usual here. Dudley's diet isn't going too well. My aunt found him smuggling doughnuts into his room yesterday. They told him they'd have to cut his pocket money if he kept doing it, so he got really angry and chucked his PlayStation out the window. That's a sort of computer thing that you can play games on. Bit stupid really, now he hasn't even got _Kingdom Souls_ to take his mind off his hunger._

_I'm okay, mainly because the Dursleys are terrified you might turn up and turn them all into bats if I ask you to._

_A weird thing happened this morning, though, my scar hurt again. Last time that happened it was because Voldemort was at Hogwarts, but I don't reckon he could be any where near me now, can he? Do you know if curse scars sometimes hurt years afterward?_

_I'll send this with Hedwig when she gets back; she's off hunting at the moment. Say hello to Buckbeak for me._

Harry

_P.S, Has Dumbledore mentioned anything to you lately about anything?"_

He nodded to himself and set to folding the paper into a new envelope. He was certain it was just casual enough to not spark and warning bells. He had wondered if he should have mentioned the Heartless, but found it too confusing to put into words about what he meant. With the letter finished, he put his worries to rest and decided to get more sleep.


	2. To The Burrow

To The Burrow

By Spheral3

Morning.

Edward didn't open his eyes, though he could recognize that he was awake. If he had wanted to, he could have fallen back asleep, but instead, Ed listened to the gentle "chink" of shifting, hollowed armor. It was a haunting sound, heralding memories of their mistakes and foreshadowing the possible future to come, all at once. Edward had lain awake most of the night worrying on just what could happen if he wasn't there, or if they didn't find a way back to their bodies in time.

The brothers knew that Alphonse's state was temporary, but the expiration date was a mystery. It made Edward's stomach wrench with grief over the thought of receiving a letter of Alphonse's passing while on the mission. The Colonel's promise to keep Alphonse safe and in good spirits held very little merit to Edward. It wasn't up to the Colonel to do these things, it was the older brother's, he himself was the one responsible for Al. He was, however, also the one responsible for the damaged state they were in now. While anyone who knew Al's secret marveled at Edward's success to attach a soul to armor, it only served as a testament to failure.

The only thought to quell this dire worry was the promise of hope. The Colonel was sending Edward towards a new answer, a new hope. Somewhere in that school library was the answer he sought. As soon as he had those records...the thought troubled him. What would he do? Create the stone while he was there? He didn't know if he could, or if the school had the resources other than mere findings and files, though they were very important. Surely it wouldn't take a whole year to find or understand them, so how many months would he have to sit on them?

His mind raced, serving only to tangle his thoughts in revolving questions. Hope and fear cycled one another, devouring each other by the tail, neither one serving to come out victoriously. He steadied his breathing and listened for the sounds of his brother's presence again. They were growing closer, and he knew it was because Alphonse was coming to rouse him from his sleep. The sound of metal stopped; he counted the seconds of silence.

"Brother," his gentle voice echoed, but his voice was filled with warmth. "It's five 'till. You should get up soon, don't you think?"

Edward opened his eyes, meeting the red lights of his brother's. Sometimes he swore he could feel his brother smiling, somehow. Perhaps it was the angle at which the helmet was turned that fooled him, but there was a kind of presence about his younger brother that just begged a smile in Edward's mind.

"Morning Al."

"It's almost noon."

"Still morning, isn't it?"

Edward drew the covers off of him and sat in bed, rubbing the back of his neck with his hand.

"Couldn't sleep, huh?" asked his brother.

"Not really, no," he sighed. "Spent all night thinking."

He heard the armor shift, he could feel Alphonse struggling with something positive to say, could feel it like a ripple lapping against him in a tub.

"Everything's going to be alright," Edward smiled at him.

"I know, and this seems like a pretty good lead."

That was a lie, the lead was very faulty and too out-of-the-blue and convenient to be true. Neither would dare to say it out loud.

"Yeah, and for one we can stop running around and almost getting attacked by monsters and homicidal maniacs," laughed Edward, throwing his arms out in exaggeration.

Al gave a laugh,

"Yeah, instead you'll be chased by wizards and crazy people, and get salt thrown on you."

"Salt? Why salt?"

"It's what priests use to purify things. So I thought, maybe wizards use it too?"

Edward groaned and he flopped back onto his bed.

"I don't want to think about what they use. I just wanna get this over with."

Things went quiet again, for only a moment.

"Me too."

When Alphonse spoke again, there was a much more somber tone. Things were relatively similar to how it had been last night, after he had explained the new mission to Alphonse. His brother had not received it very easily, but after some questioning, and several more confirmations that there was no way out of this, he quietly accepted their fate.

Edward got back up and leaned over, placing his face in his palms, careful not to pinch his skin between his metal joints.

"I'm…I'm sure it's all going to be okay," he breathed. He wore those words like a man strapped to a crate filled with bricks. He was sure he'd shoulder it the entire year. "We'll get through this year," he continued, "and neither of us will stop working just because the other is away. Nothing has been put on hold…we're just investigating a lead for a price. Equivalent…"

A pause.

His head raised and he looked through his fingers to his bother. Alphonse looked back at him, and gave a nod in return.

"This boy must be very important to this man, if he's willing to give us such an important piece of information."

Edward's eyes just looked at him, listening intently as his suspicions rose up within him. Alphonse continued.

"I read a little bit of the mission statement last night, sometime after you finally got to sleep. That assassin, Voldemort, killed both of Harry's parents, and the file said that he was living with his aunt and Uncle, but…" he shifted slightly, "it seems like this Professor must really care about Harry."

"He's recognized for living through that ordeal. He's gotta be famous, or something," Edward shrugged. "It's not that bazaar to hire help."

"But he didn't just hire help, did he? He went out and he found you."

Edward arched an eyebrow at his brother.

"What are you going on about Al? Are you suspicious or…?"

"I'm saying…I'm not sure exactly what I'm saying—but that maybe Harry is very important to Dumbledore, so don't forget to keep an eye on him."

"Al," he laughed, leaning back, "I'm not an idiot. I know I've gotta do my job."

His smile was met with a chuckle from his brother.

"I know, but I feel sorry for Harry. To be famous for that kind of thing, it can't feel good. I know that I didn't like being recognized as _the kids whose dad left and their mother died_ when we were younger. So, think of being famous for it."

"You don't even know him," Edward laughed again, shaking his head. "You really do have a bleeding heart," but he smiled and rested his head on his hand. "If this kid were a cat you'd have adopted him by now."

Edward picked up his pillow and playfully flung it at Alphonse, who caught it and laughed.

"Maybe I would, and you wouldn't be able to stop me."

"Like hell I wouldn't."

For that, Edward received the pillow in his face, and he fell back with it. He laughed, pushing it aside.

"You'd be gone, anyway, so whose to say I can't."

"When I come back, I'd tie it in a bag and throw it over a bridge."

"That's so mean! No you wouldn't. I wouldn't let you," he flung another pillow. Edward caught it.

"Or I'd chop it up and make _kitten-stew_."

"You're so heartless," Alphonse laughed, shocked. "I know you wouldn't actually do that, anyway."

"Depends how hungry I am," Edward grinned.

"Well if you did I'd never speak to you again."

"Oh…well then I guess I'd just tell you to get rid of it…then fling it over the bridge."

"Heartless!"

They laughed.

He flopped back down and placed his hands behind his head. Alphonse stood up and had gotten to the doorway when Edward suddenly snapped back up.

"Hey, Al,"

"Yeah?"

"Don't get any ideas while I'm gone. Seriously, no pets."

"Hmm,"

"I mean it."

"Oh I know," he walked away, his playful tone trailing behind him.

"I mean it…Alphonse? Al!" he whined, and chased after his brother.

The sun was just beginning to set over the city when Alphonse and Edward walked into the military's Central offices. Edward carried his suitcase, and Alphonse held the roll-up automail kit. It had been a present from Winry some time ago when they had last visited the Rockbell's home. She had even taught Edward how to properly adjust, and even replace certain parts.

The brothers passed by the officers who had locked up their offices and were on their way back home. Every now and again someone would wave, or give a nod as they passed. Lt. Fury had stopped them for a moment to have a small conversation, something about the weather, and to wish Edward good luck on his next mission. The brother's thanked him, and they went their separate ways.

They made their way to Colonel Mustang's office, standing before the door. Alphonse looked to his brother, waiting for his to knock, but Edward remained still.

"Hey, Al," he spoke quietly. "Do you remember studying at the Tucker's home?"

"Y-yeah," his tone hesitant but soft.

"That was nice."

"…Yeah."

"If you get lonely, you should go to Mase's home. Play with Elisia and visit Gracia. Call Winry too, she'll want to hear from at least one of us."

"Sure, I will."

"Don't hold your self up alone somewhere and feel sorry for your self, alright?"

"I should be saying that to you. That you should make friends and try to utilize everyone. Right?"

"Right…"

"Do try to make friends."

"Sure."

"I mean it."

Edward didn't say anything, and simply gave a shrug. Alphonse sighed, merely as a sign of annoyance. A voice called out to them then, muffled by the door that stood between the brothers and their destination.

"I know you're out there, I can hear your voices and Alphonse's armor."

The boys stiffened in surprise for a moment, before exchanging an embarrassed glance that they wore with humor. Edward opened the door and walked in, Alphonse behind him.

Both Colonel Mustang and Dumbledore were standing, looking to them as they entered. Dumbledore nodded to Alphonse, smiling kindly. He was wearing the exact same outfit as he had worn the night before, save for a brown coat with dark brown elbow patches. Edward refrained from giving any remarks or whispering over to his brother, as Dumbledore was staring right at them.

Alphonse was not so concerned with the way Dumbledore dressed, as he was with the book he held in his hand. He noted how strange it was, but like his brother, refrained from speaking out. The book was a deep blue, with gold framing about it, yet it bore no title.

"Good evening boys," said Dumbledore, "I take it that the one in the armor is your younger brother, Major?"

"Yes sir," Alphonse responded politely, "I'm Alphonse Elric. Pleased to meet you."

"And you," he nodded again.

The Colonel stepped around his desk and addressed Alphonse when he spoke.

"I'll ask that you both say your goodbyes to each other, as Edward has to leave immediately."

"As do I," nodded Alphonse. The Colonal looked to him, puzzled. "You see," Alphonse continued, "Before you sent word out our way, we were with our Teacher."

"Yes, and?"

"We, brother and I, had some important questions to ask her. Our visit had to be cut short, but since I will not be accompanying him on this mission, I should like to get back to her and finish up some questions we had."

"Picking up where you left off, then? That's fine with me. Since your brother isn't around with you to flash a state I.D, then why don't I sign you off as a Detective of the State?"

The brothers stood stark still, eyes wide.

"You-you can do that?" Alphonse asked. Edward smiled up at him.

"Well what do you know, looks like you'll be sleuthing in style."

"Bare in mind," began the Colonel, "that this isn't an official seal by the Furor, and that it won't get you into the same areas or libraries that your brother can get into, however, a letter from myself is just as good. You'll have to report to me if you want something, but you seem to be more capable of this than your brother, so I don't see a problem."

"Wanna run that by me again," grumbled Edward.

"Now," continued the Colonel, "I don't have the documents here at my disposal, so you'll have to follow me out to the main hall to get them."

"Right…so," Alphonse turned to his brother, "I guess this is goodbye."

"Yeah, guess so," Edward smiled up at Alphonse. "Remember what I told you earlier. Be careful, don't do anything stupid."

"You don't have to tell me that. That's my line to _you_."

"If there's trouble, I want you to run, got it?"

"We'll see what kind of trouble it is. I can't run from everything."

"Yeah well—just stay alive, right?"

"Brother, don't worry, please. I'll be okay. I'll be here when you get back."

"Yeah…I know you will."

"You be careful too. Don't lose your temper. Try to make friends."

"We'll see about that last part."

"I mean it."

"I mean it too."

Alphonse sighed.

"Stubborn," but gave a small chuckle. "Well… goodbye, Ed. I'll miss you."

"I'll miss you too Al."

They paused, wondering if they should hug, attempt to make some kind of contact despite the obvious. Edward had just built up the courage, when Alphonse suddenly set Edward's automail kit down, and took a step back. Edward nodded and let out the breath he had been holding in.

"Good bye, Alphonse. I'll be back sooner than you know it, and have that stone."

"I know you will," he replied, happily. Another pause.

The Colonel cleared his throat before he spoke.

"I'm sorry to hurry you, but I am told that Dumbledore is on a strict scedual, and we really should get those document before the receptionist leaves."

"Oh, right," said Al, "I understand."

He turned back to his brother and bowed, Edward did the same.

"So long, FullMetal," said the Colonel, "See you when you get back."

"Right. Take care of Al."

"Will do."

With that, his younger brother and the Colonel turned and left the office. Edward watched his brother and the Colonel walk away, the door shutting tightly behind them. He gave a sigh, and picked up his things. He turned to face Dumbledore, and only realized then that the man hadn't spoke in some time. Dumbledore was looking to the door as well, and slowly turned back, smiling at Edward.

"I'm confident your brother will be alright."

"Sure," shrugged Edward, "He's much stronger than me, in a lot of ways. He'll be fine."

"Good," he nodded again, "Would you do me the favor of telling me the time?"

Edward shrugged and set down his kit to take his watch out.

"It's umm…it's 5:28."

"Oh my, I must say that's cutting it very quick," he then held out the book he had in his hands. "I shall do you no disrespect in lying to you, Major, and through our journey I shall arm you with as much of the truth as time will allow so that it may serve to get you fitted in to a style of life you are not so accustom to."

"Sure," he said quietly, looking to what he was convinced was a hokey spell-book of some kind. "Are we going to have to…I don't know, chant or something?"

"Much less effort than that, Major Elric. You have only to touch the book before the time hits 5:30, and this Port Key will take up to the destination."

"Wait, what?" he blinked.

"I must urge you to place your finger on the book, Major."

Edward slung his automail kit over his shoulder, biting back a very loud sigh and groan. His gloved hand touched the book, but nothing happened.

"A Port Key," continued Dumbledore, is a method of transportation in our world. "We use ordinary objects, mostly, so that they are not anything of interest for a Muggle to pick up."

"A what?" his tone was flat as he raised an eyebrow.

"What time is it?"

"It's…hold on," he set his case down a moment and grabbed up his watch. "Almost 5:30."

"Quickly, grab your things."

Edward stuffed his watch back in his pocket, unable to help from grumbling.

"Pick this up, put this down…"

"Good, good," nodded Dumbledore. "Now then…what to expect. I suppose you'll find this all very uncomfortable, but try not to worry. You'll be fine."

"I'm very sure I will be," he said, his patience wearing thin, "because—."

No sooner had the words left Edward's mouth when suddenly there came a very alarming sensation. The world around him vanished, and in its place there were colors and lights zooming by at alarming speeds. Surprised, he cried out, only just becoming aware of the strange tugging sensation at his belly button. It were as if a fisherman's hook had been caught in it and was reeling him in like a trout or bass. The young man only thought to hold very tightly to his things and keep his eyes open.

Just as swiftly as the sensation had started, it came to violent halt, and left Edward to impact with a crumbly, soft wall. He blinked a few times, vision being restored, the world stopped spinning, and he realized that he had in fact, landed on the ground. He coughed and picked himself up, shaking with nerves. He felt a hand gently wrap around his left arm and help him to his feet.

"There, there," said Dumbledore, "Don't feel too embarrassed, even I feel flat on my face the first couple of times I encountered travel by Port Key," he gave a gentle laugh that was gruff with age. He let go of Edward, who just managed to get his footing, and was looking about himself.

"Wha…What just…where…how…?!"

His eyes scanned a green valley, drenched in moonlight. They were on a dirt road which disappeared behind a bend of the hill side, both behind and ahead of them selves. The air was warm, if not for a slight chill of an occasional breeze, but Edward hardly noticed it.

Dumbledore, who had been keeping an eye on Edward, turned and began walking up the road.

"Come along Major, we wouldn't want to be late to your host's home."

"Home?" he turned back to see that Dumbledore had already started off. He gathered up his belongings and walked after him. "Wait, wait hold on a second. I want an explanation."

"You'll be meeting Mr. Potter at the home of—"

"No, no, not that! The-the Port-Key! What was all that flying and—and then falling, and…and…!"

The old professor turned about, his eyebrows gently raised in a questioning manner, waiting patiently. Edward stood there, still huffing as his body recovered from getting the wind knocked out of it.

"Well…what was it?"

"That was magic, Major Elric."

The boy shook his head, but Professor Dumbledore nodded back.

"Yes, your first taste of magic."

There was a strange knot that tied up in Edward's stomach, but he couldn't identify what he felt. He ignored it, stuffing it way back in his mind.

"I'm sorry I cannot allow you the proper time for explanation and rest, but I feel it better if we get you to your host so that you might be able to meet Mr. Potter and the lovely Weasley family whom you will be staying with for a short time. Come along," he turned and began to walk.

Edward stood there, for only a moment. He looked back to the spot they had landed on, then to Dumbledore. He swallowed his shock and hustled after Dumbledore.

He walked along side the professor, the old wizard—no, his mind wouldn't allow such a thought. A trickster, maybe. His mind tumbled over ideas, perhaps possible transmutation circles that could allow such travel to be possible. He never did see the reverse side of the book he held.

Dumbledore interrupted his thoughts then.

"Just around this bend, I have said before, is the home of the Weasleys. Harry visits here when he can, usually a few weeks before school begins. He should be there by now. I am on a tight schedule and, unfortunately, cannot accompany you inside, so you'll need to show this letter to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley."

He reached into his inner coat pocket and removed a letter, sealed with a red wax insignia. Edward took it in hand and examined it. In cursive, from a fountain pen, it was addressed to the Weasleys on the front.

"That should clear things up for them, though do send them my apologies that I could not meet them in person."

"Sure," nodded Edward.

They walked around the bend, and standing there in the darkness of the night, was a home of such architecture that Edward had never seen before. The place looked like what Edward would have imagined a wizard home to be. There were strange rooms jutting straight out of the main build. A second and possibly third and fourth floor had been crudely built on top, the rooms jutting out at awkward angles. It looked to Edward as though it may fall over at any time, yet even in the wind it remained sturdy and stead-fast.

Warm yellow light bled out from the windows, a smell of dinner wafted from out the kitchen area, along with the muffled sound of laughter within the walls. They approached the home, already Edward could feel its presence warming him.

They stopped at the gate. Dumbledore turned and faced him.

"Well Major, this is goodbye for now. I leave you to your work."

Edward stared up at the Professor, at a loss as to what to say. His mind still buzzed with questions that the polite norms of pardoning could not penetrate. He merely nodded thickly and continued to stare up at him.

"Well then, off you go. They have a few more family members than usual this evening, so be sure to knock loudly."

"I will."

"Is there anything else on your mind that you wish to ask before I'm off, Major?"

"Ah…" he tried to speak, but nothing came out. He merely shut his mouth again, and shook his head.

"I see," Dumbledore nodded, "Don't worry. This shall all become very normal to you soon, though I do hope not too soon," he smiled to him, and Edward couldn't help but give an embarrassed smile back.

"Yeah, I guess."

"Good night, Major."

"Good bye, Professor."

Dumbledore turned and walked into the night. Edward turned to enter the gate, when suddenly there was a very loud crack sound that shot through the air. Edward turned back to see where Dumbledore was, but found that he was gone, all together gone. He looked about, his heart pounding, but after a few more moments of uneasy silence, he merely shook his head and entered through the gate.

He knocked on the door, loud enough over the laughter that was just dying down. It went silent, there were a few voices asking questions, but he didn't hear what they had to say. The door opened, the warm yellow light and heat of the kitchen flooded out. A wide woman stood at the doorway, red hair frizzled around he head that was loosely pinned back on the sides. She had a kindly air, though upon seeing Edward she became puzzled and curious.

"Oh, ah, can I help you, dear?" a smile was drawn across her face once more.

"Ah, yes ma'am," he hesitated a moment, trying to drag his thoughts into some kind of explanation. Even as he sputtered out a few words of introduction, and where he came from, he felt he was at a sever loss, like somewhere along the trip his grasp on reality had been tossed away without his knowing. Was he dreaming then, as words failed to make a point, and all he could do was to clutch his luggage so that he might not fall through the ground.

"I'm sorry dear," smiled the woman, "I'm not exactly sure…what it is you're trying to…are you lost, maybe? There's a town not too far off where you could get help."

"Erm, no, ma'am. I'm sorry, let me try again…"

He felt the letter in his hand then.

"Oh, I—right, I have a letter here, from Professor Dumbledore."

"From Dumbledore?"

"It's a letter of introduction, of sorts. It should explain, in better detail, who I am, I hope."

He handed it over to her, and she looked at it. She studied the handwriting very carefully, and looked to him, then looked over the envelope, and looked back to him once more. She opened it and took a moment to read it over. She paused and looked back at Edward, her bright brown eyes studying him.

"What did you say your name was again, dear?"

"Edward Elric."

"Edward. Well, alright, come in then,"

"Thank you."

He entered quickly, looking around the kitchen.

"Make your self comfortable dear," her head didn't raise from the letter, "My husband will be along shortly with Harry."

The kitchen was rather large, but a long wooden table took up any extra space and made the room cramped. Two men were already sitting down, and had looked up from their conversation to see Edward and his luggage.

"Oi, mum," called over one of the red-headed men. He took the tooth pick from his mouth, his gaze on Edward. "Who's this, then?" He had long hair that was pulled back into a pony-tail. On one side of his head, Edward could see that his ear was pierced, with a fang of some kind acting as a gauge through the earlobe.

Mrs. Weasely didn't answer, or rather it seemed as though she didn't hear him. Her attention was on the note, reading it even as she walked back to the stove.

"Alright then," he addressed Edward, "Who're you then?" he motioned with the tooth pick.

"I'm—"

"His name is Edward," said Mrs. Weasley.

"Yeah, alright," the man nodded, "but who are you?"

"I'm an Alchemist," he said, the feeling of sheepishness creping over him steadily.

"An Alchemist? What'er you doing here?"

"I'm...I'm here for Harry."

"He was sent by Dumbledore, love," said Mrs. Weasley again.

"Dumbledore, you say?" said the other man. He looked to be the brother of the first and quite possibly they were both sons of Mrs. Weasley. He was round, like his mother, and had freckles. He wore a kind expression, unlike his brother, who was eyeing Edward over. "How is Dumbledore?"

"Fine," his answer was quiet, but prompt. "We didn't really get too much of a chance to have a conversation."

"Ah, right. He is a busy man," he nodded, smiling. "Well, don't just stand there, please, have a seat."

Edward smiled wearily, and walked over to the table, across from the brothers.

"My name is Charlie," continued the kindly one, "and this is my brother Bill."

"Hey," nodded Bill.

"Hey," Edward nodded back. Bill gave a smile and placed the toothpick back in his mouth.

"You have an interesting accent, if you don't mind me saying," smiled Charlie, "Where are you from?"

"A little town called Resignbool," he smiled.

"How far out is that?"

"Past the city. It's just a bunch of farms lands."

"Ah, I see," Charlie nodded. "So, an Alchemist then, eh? Don't suppose they have a special school for that yet, do they?"

"A few, maybe, but my brother and I were self-taught."

"Oh, how nice," he nodded. "I didn't know we still had use of Alchemists."

"From time to time," said Bill. "Gringotts has had a couple of Alchemists help with security on several occasions."

"Is that so?" asked Charlie. They began to talk amongst themselves. Edward, without really meaning to, tuned them out and looked around the room.

The windows had their own curtains and treatments to them, and the walls were covered with various knickknacks and pictures. He was merely glancing everything over, when there was movement out the corner of his eye. He paused then, staring at the photos intensely. The figures in the photos moved about, smiling happily, adjusting their stance, and even would look about at the others in the room. Edward blinked and squinted, wondering if it were a trick of the light, or any kind of reasonable explanation, but he could find nothing to contradict the surprised gasp of magic in his mind. He shut his lower jaw and continued scanning the room. His eyes glanced about, quietly taking in the sight of a scrub brush, flying about on it's own accord and doing the dishes.

He felt a headache coming on.

The crackling roar of the fire place caused him to jump unpleasantly. He turned back, watching wide-eyed as people began to emerge from brilliant emerald flames from in the living room.

"That'd be them," nodded Bill. "Go have a look then,"

Edward stood and went to the living room, standing by the door in quiet awe.

The first to come out were a pair of boys, one following right after the other, luggage in their hands. They were both red headed, with speckled mugs that were bright with their laughter. They were identical twins, both looking to be in their teenage years. Next to pop out was Harry Potter himself. He was struggling to keep his glasses on his face while he stumbled through and out the other side.

"Did he eat it?" asked one of the twins to Harry.

"What-What was that?" Harry managed to just get out before succumbing to a fit of laughter. The twins held themselves up. Their chest puffed out in a demonstrative show of pride.

"Ton Tongue Toffee" said one, but softly.

"An invention of our very own," winked the other. "We've been looking all summer to try it out. Best opportunity to use it on a Muggle like him."

Another young Weasley of similar description popped out next, his face was bright red as he held in the laughter that was just begging to burst forth.

"That was brilliant," laughed Ron.

Once more the fireplace blazed a bright brilliance before a man walked through. His complexion much the same in redundant detail of family traits, save for the deep frown and furrowed brow. He clearly did not share in the joke that had been played.

"That was no funny, boys. What on earth did you give that Muggle boy?"

_Muggle_, that word had been said twice. A Muggle boy, sounded to him no less like a troll of some kind. Maybe it was a creature of some kind. Did Harry live with strange animals? But no, his report had read Aunt and Uncle. So what was a Muggle?

His thoughts were abruptly disrupted by entering the room.

"What did they do?" she asked, sternly, hands already firmly placed on her hips.

The boys and Arthur looked to her, jarred at first, but the father straightened up and cleared his throat.

"Molly, well, it's nothing really that I can't take care of. You see, the boys…"

Edward had moved out from behind Mrs. Weasley to lean against the doorframe, and it seems he had been noticed. Arthur cocked his head in Edward's direction, then pointed to him, questioningly.

"Molly dear, who's this?"

The room went quiet, and all looked to Edward.

He couldn't help but feel as though he had perverted some moment of family, that he had caused a disturbance in time, just by being there. It was the odd way that everyone stared, and how didn't answer but instead, struggled to get the letter out of her pocket, muttering for them to wait. Edward looked to all their faces, unsure if he should speak up or wait to be introduced. His gaze rested on Harry finally, and he looked for any indication of familiarity to the situation. It seemed that Harry was clueless, and Edward worried that Harry had not been informed by Dumbledore.

"Here it is," said Molly, handing the letter to Arthur. "It's from Dumbledore."

All eyes shifted from Ed to the letter in their own time. The boy cleared his throat and shifted off the wall.

"Hello sir," he spoke at last, looking to Arthur Weasley. "My name is Edward Elric. I'm here on behalf of Dumbledore to serve as…protector, no, bodyguard, of Harry Potter."

Harry's eyes widened, but that was it.

"You?" asked one of the Twins. "You're a bit short, aren'tchya?"

Edward's eyes flicked to him, but his bit his tongue.

"No."

"Protect him against what?" asked the other "Mole rats? House Elves? What's an eleven year old going to do?"

He shook, perhaps even a bit visibly, his gaze darkened as he looked to the floor. This anger was almost a reliefe to the dizzying confusion that had been muddling his head for sometime.

"That's enough," snapped Mrs. Weasley. "We still have the matter to discuss about what it was you boys did. Concern yourselves with that first."

"Ron," said Mr. Weasley, "take Harry and Edward and get yourselves settled upstairs."

Harry and Ron to slipped away from the budding argument to go speak with Edward.

"So, it's true then," asked Harry. "You're the bodyguard Dumbledore mentioned to me in his letter?"

"That's me."

"But why, from what?"

"He didn't tell you?"

Harry shook his head.

"Never mind talking here," said Ron. "I have a feeling mum's gonna start screaming her head off—"

"_THEY DID WHAT_?"

Ron merely motioned to his fellows and pointed up stairs. As Harry and Edward made their way, Ron went between the argument to grab Harry's things, and hand them off to him. They went off upstairs, to get set up, and try to find a space for Edward to sleep in. Edward wondered if it was too early to wake up from this dizzying dream yet.

_(A.N Wow, I'm sorry this is so late. As I mentioned in my bio, it's been a real struggle to get ahold of a Harry Potter book due to circumstances. But wow, what was that, two weeks? Nu-uh, I'm not going to let myself take another break like that again. Art will be up soon. Ulg, so sorry you guys. I hope you enjoyed this chapter though._

_~Spheral3)_


	3. BodyGuard

**Bodyguard**

The boys had quickly left the roaring scolding's of Mrs. Weasley, and were quickly treading up the rickety zig-zag stairs. The two wizard boys spoke quietly to one another, putting a slight distance between themselves and Edward.

"A bodyguard?" whispered Ron, harshly. "What kind of bodyguard is _that_?"

"Dunno," said Harry, a bit more quietly, "We'll just have to ask him."

"I hope this doesn't get in the way of the World Cup."

"Me too."

Edward could barely hear what they were saying over the noise of Mrs. Weasley. He was still shaken up from the trip over, and now the harsh motherly yelling was a bit jarring to his senses.

They passed several other doors before finally getting to Ron's. Upon entering, Edward immediately noticed how small the room was, but there did at least seem to be enough space for at least one more cot. On the walls were posters that had pictures of grown men on broomsticks with a logo of 'C.C.' on their robes. Written on the poster were the words, 'Chudly Cannons'; Edward interoperated it as being a team name—but of what sport, he could only guess. He continued look around at the small, messy room. A tiny owl squawked in the corner, twittering and flapping around its cage.

"Shut it, Pig," said Ron, slumping Harry's stuff on his already made cot. The little twittering bird quieted down in the next moment. Ron turned and gave a shrug to Edward.

"It's not much, but it's home."

"No, it's fine," he said.

"There's enough room for one more cot. We'll set it up in a second."

"Are you sure about that?" asked Edward.

"Sure about what?"

"There being enough room."

"I already said that it wasn't much, I can't just make the room bigger."

Edward frowned and merely let his automail kit slip from his shoulder and to the ground.

"Take it easy, I just meant I could sleep on your couch if there wasn't enough room."

"Oh, ah, that's not necessary. Plus, I'd never hear the end of it from mum. Just pick a spot and make yourself comfortable for now. Harry, you're sleeping here. We'll have enough room, I think."

"That's just fine, Ron."

Most of the Elric's life up to this point had been spent in hotels, small Inns and at the military barracks, and only for a couple of nights until it was time to move again. In all the rush of their lives, there had hardly ever been time to be as messy as this boy was.

Harry and Ron had already sat on the only other cot available and were watching Edward. The young man was distracted by the look of the room, but after noticing the silence, he turned back.

"So, erm… Edward, right?" asked Harry. Edward gave a nod back to him and leaned awkwardly against Ron's desk in an attempt to look comfortable. "Well…how do you do, this is Ron,"

"Hi," nodded Edward. Ron just looked at him and raised an eyebrow.

The stiff silence was beginning wear on Edward's nerves. He pushed himself off the desk and was about to look for another cot to get ready, when Ron spoke up.

"Are you with the Ministry?" asked Ron bluntly. "I mean, you are at least a _trained_ wizard, right?"

Edward coughed a laugh and rubbed the back of his head. He didn't know where to begin with this explanation.

"No, nothing like that at all. I'm more of a…I'm actually an Alchemist."

"Alchemist?" wondered Harry.

"Well, a scientist— of a sort, I mean."

"We know what an Alchemist is," said Ron, "but we thought that Alchemists were, I dunno, boring old guys working over a cauldron all the time."

"No, no cauldrons at all. We're scientists," he said again, almost like a plea, "Not…you know."

"What?" asked Harry.

"Well, not Wizards."

Both boys eye's widened, and Edward could feel a drop in mood. Ron immediately stood up and gapped at Edward, as if just seeing him for the first time.

"_WHAT_? A _Muggle_? Dumbledore sent a Muggle to protect you?" he had turned to Harry, though had thrown a hand to Edward, causing the young man to lean away from the extended gesture.

"We don't know that he's a Muggle," said Harry, standing. "Edward said he's an Alchemist, so surely—"

"Hey," Ed barked, "Excuse me, but what the _hell _is a _Muggle_? I've been hearing that word all night, and I get the feeling that it aint no high praise."

"See, that proves it!" Ron threw a hand to Edward, and again the boy had to dodge. "Dumbledore has slipped off his rocker and hired some loony who thinks he's an ancient scientist."

"Ron," said Harry sternly.

"Watch who you're calling loony, ya wand-waver," Edward snapped. Ron looked back at him, frowning deeply.

"You watch who you're calling wand-waver, you loon."

"Nut-Job!"

"Half-Pint!"

"_Enough!_" roared Harry. "Ron, cool it. If Dumbledore thought that an Alchemist could help me, then maybe he can."

"Against what?" exclaimed Ron, which seemed to be the question for the night, "Against _Him_? What's he going to do? Throw bars of gold at a Death Eater that he made out of rat pellets?"

"That doesn't even make sense!" barked Edward.

"It makes about as much sense as Dumbledore hiring _you_."

Edward glared at Ron, feeling a new dislike for him settle over.

The door opened before any more words could be exchanged, and there stood two girls. On the left was a girl that Edward could only surmise as to being Ron's sister, being that she shared the red-headed trait that all the children seem to share. She had light freckles and a pallor complexion to match Ron's. The other was a girl of perhaps Edward's age, with brown hair that frizzled out to form almost a bell shape, and fair skin. Her nose was in a slight up-turn that made a crinkle from the confused look she wore. Both girls had spotted Edward, and eyed him a bit wary. As Harry turned and trounced over the bed to hug his friends, Edward turned to Ron's desk and sat on it, as there was no room to pull out the chair.

"Harry," smiled Hermione. "Glad you made it over. I thought all the yelling was from Mrs. Weasley but then I was passing by and I heard—"

"No, it was Mrs. Weasley before it was us," his smile faltered. "We were, um, just getting to know our new friend here."

Hermione and the other red head looked past the Wizard boys to see Edward sitting there. He did his best to smile and gave a polite wave of the hand, though his mood had plummeted. He braced himself for another argument.

"Hey there," he said.

"How do you do," said Hermione.

"Are you a friend of Harry's?" asked the red headed girl.

"I'm…kind of his new "friend"."

"Really?" she asked.

"We just met," said Ron, flatly. "Hermione, Ginny, this is Edward. He's Harry's bodyguard."

"Bodyguard?" the girls asked.

"What on earth do you need a body guard for?" asked Hermione. Harry merely shrugged and looked away, feeling slightly embarrassed.

"Nuthing," said Ron, "Harry is just fine without one."

"Well excuse me," said Edward, "after all, it's not like I want to be pulled away from my life for a year and follow you two around from one class to another. I got a life too, ya know. If this Dumbledore-guy hadn't come to ask my help I'd've—"

"Ron," snapped Hermione, "You've already been making enemies with the person who Dumbledore himself sent for Harry? What's wrong with you?"

"Hey! He's a _Muggle_!"

"A Muggle!" gasped Ginny. "This is a surprise…"

"A Muggle? Are you really?"

"Not…quite," He said, looking back at her. "I keep trying to say that I'm an Alchemist."

"Perhaps I should define what a Muggle is for you. A Muggle is what magic folk call those who cannot produce magic, but it isn't a bad thing. My own parents are Muggles, in fact."

"Well…then I guess I am a Muggle," he shrugged, muttering it quietly.

"But, surely, there must be something you can do, as an Alchemist I mean."

"I'm not useless, that's for sure. I and my brother have plenty of experience in…hand-to-hand combat and martial arts."

"You don't sound too sure about that," said Ron.

"Where I come from, it's rude to gloat," he snapped. This caused Hermione and Ginny to giggle. Ron went a bit red in the ears.

Usually, Edward would have been all fired up and ready to throw it in anyone's face, here at this time though, it felt more like a job interview. He was level headed enough to know that gloating one's abilities in a place where it might be rendered useless was unwise.

"And, your Alchemy?" asked Hermione. Edward noticed Harry's growing interest, the boy's head tilting up a little. Ron remained flat and unimpressed, while his younger sister was smiling at Edward, seeming to admire his red coat.

"As for that," Edward thought to himself for a moment, "well, perhaps it's better if I show you."

"What are you going to do?" asked Ginny.

"Well, I can transmute something for you, but I'd need something to start with. Something useless, perhaps. Something you don't mind getting damaged."

"Are you going to destroy it?" asked Ron.

"No, I'm going to transmute it. I'll perhaps shift its physical form rather than it's chemical make-up, just so you understand what it is I do."

"I'm actually not too clear on the subject of transmutation," said Hermione, "It is something along the lines of transfiguration, correct? The process of turning one thing into something else?"

"Yes, that sounds along the same lines…" he thought for a moment. "Transmutation, the process, has to do with an Alchemist's ability to take something, deconstruct it's form entirely, then reconstruct it, using no more or less than what what first given. It isn't so much turning something into something else entirely. For instance, I can't make gold out of rat pellets…" he shot a glare at Ron, who shrugged and rolled his eyes. "However, I can make gold from other metals, by changing it's chemical make up."

"This is all…a bit much," admitted Harry, rubbing his head. "I think what you're saying is that you can, in fact, transform objects into a relative but altered state, making it a new metal or element?"

"School hasn't even started yet and already we're getting headaches!" sighed Ron.

"Harry's right though," said Edward, "About what I explained right then anyway. To sum it up, I can manipulate the elements and chemical components of anything around me, so long as I understand its make-up."

"Fascinating," whispered Hermione, astounded. Edward smiled at her,

"Thanks."

"And you can do all of that without a wand?" asked Ginny.

"Yup. An Alchemist doesn't need a wand, instead, they use transmutation circles. Now then, a transmutation circle is like a mathematical equation…"

"Ayyee...not more," groaned Ron.

"Ron, hush," said Hermione. "You were the one who wanted to know just what exactly he could do."

"No- you're the one who asked him! Besides, what does all of this mean to protect Harry? When wizards fight they use wands, not fists or circles."

"Really?" asked Edward flatly.

"Yes, really. Before you can even lay a pen on paper a wizard would have you hung up in the air or spitting up slugs."

"Ah, of course," nodded Edward, "I know this is all kind of long and…maybe boring."

"Not at all," said Hermione, "I can't believe there is this ability out there and I haven't heard of it."

"I as well," said Harry, "Though, to be honest I'm lacking in Wizard knowledge, anyway."

"Why's that?" asked Edward.

"I…well, my parents died, and so I was raised by my Muggle Aunt and Uncle. They're not to keen on wizards, so I didn't learn much," he shrugged, though Edward saw something in Harry's eyes. A sadness, awkward and uncomfortable. It was oddly familiar, though he couldn't place it. "Anyway," said Harry, "Ron does have a point, a wizard's spell would hit you before you could draw anything, so what could it do against a Death Eater, or any other wizard?"

"Ah…listen, I know this is kinda long and stuff, but you gotta hear me out, this aint easy to explain, it's even harder to learn. I'm trying to tell you exactly why Dumbledore picked me (I think), but I can't just say it or you won't get it."

There was a loud clatter from down stairs, and a loud cursing to follow it. Ron and Ginny looked to each other, a little humored, but worried.

"Hold off on that a second, mate," sighed Ron, "I know we were all getting to the good part, but I think mum needs some help in the kitchen. We'd all better pitch in or we'll never hear the end of it from her. Besides, she's steamed as it is."

The group headed down stairs, arriving at the kitchen to see a furious and frantic Mrs. Weasley.

"The boys all at it again," she muttered to herself, "Honestly, those two—and it isn't as though we have enough guests. I'm having to go into the woodwork in order to find plates and mugs…"

The wand she held, she pointed to a brass pot and gave a little flick. Out flowed creamy, white soup from the very tip of her wand, and poured neatly into the pot. Edward stood amazed, she had conjured food out of no where. He didn't bother to look for an explanation this time, though his mind puzzled over where it might have come from.

"You lot," said Mrs. Weasley over her shoulder. Edward snapped out of his thoughts. "There's plates and such on the counter over there. See if Bill and Charley are finished setting the tables outside, then set up the plates."

There was a murmur of agreement, and each person went to the counter and picked up a few armfuls of plates and mugs. Everything was carried with care out the front door and to the back yard.

"Reckon you can transform something out here, mate?" Ron asked back. "You know, unless you need a closed room or dank lighting to trick us?" he smirked at Edward. Though joking as it was, Edward nearly dropped his plates as irony struck its cold hand across his face.

"I don't need much to do what I do; in fact, I won't even have to roll my sleeves up or show you any cards first."

"What does that mean?" laughed Ron.

"He's talking about Muggle magic tricks," said Harry. "They use cards and slight of hand to trick the person into thinking that it was magic."

"Muggles are kind of cunning if you think about it," said Ginny.

"I think so," agreed Hermione.

"Well it wont be a trick," said Edward. "Lets hurry up and get these…plates…set…?"

He had noticed Bill and Charley out in the yard, their wands pointed into the air above their heads. Clashing and knocking together were two tables that the men were levitating. The brothers were laughing, seeming to have a good time making the tables duel one another. Just then, Bill's table caught Charlie's with a huge bang and knocked the other's leg off.

There came the cluttered sound of windows opening, and Percy ducked his head out of his window.

"Will you keep it down?"

"Sorry Perc," said Bill grinning, "How's the report on the cauldron bottoms coming?"

"Very badly," and with that he shut the window.

Chuckling, the men lowered the tables down gently and to the ground. Charlie then noticed the others all holding their plates and dishes.

"Oh, hey there. We'll have this fixed up in a moment."

"No, wait," said Edward. "Excuse me, but if it'd be alright, I'd like to assist you in fixing the table."

"It's quite alright," said Charlie, "it not a trouble to us."

"Oh! Let him do it," said Ginny, excitedly, "he promised us he'd show us a transmutation!"

"Ahh, what?" asked Bill.

Edward walked up and handed the dishes over to Charley, hurriedly.

"A transmutation," Edward began, "is where—"

"No, I understand, mate, I just…don't understand. A transmutation takes an oven and mixed chemicals."

"Neither of which I have any use of," he smiled as he worked on fixing the leg back into place. He took his hands away to see that the leg was secure enough to stand on it's own. He turned back to the others.

"Remember what I was saying about transmutation circles?"

"Vaguely," said Ron, who got a nudge in the arm from Hermione.

"I'll make it quick. Anyway, those circles are our way of causing transmutations. Like a mathematic equation, it takes all the parts that are to be added into the finished product, and collects them together, combining them, and with the skill of the Alchemist's energy input, crafts them into a harmonious mix that stabilizes and fully creates the product desired."

Ron groaned, but Edward turned back around.

"However, I don't even need to use that."

He clapped his hands, and felt the familiar surge of energy rush though him, like a charge from his very core. His mind fixated on what he wanted done, and more importantly how it could be accomplished. He set his hands on the table leg, and in a flash of brilliant blue light, the table repaired it's self.

The wizards look on, and this time it was Ron who nearly dropped his set of dishes. When the light died out, Bill and Charley knelt down to inspect the leg.

"It's together again. It's been seamlessly fixed!" said Charlie.

"Merlin's beard…" muttered Bill, almost excitedly. The brothers looked back to Edward, who had stood up and out of their way. "How could you do that without a wand? What was that light?"

Edward smiled and gave a small shrug.

"Oh, it was nothing. I just used simple Alchemy to fix the table that's all," a broad smile appearing across his face.

"Magic without a wand…!" gasped Ginny.

"_Alchemy_."

"I don't believe it," said Harry.

"Bloody hell," said Ron, "Well…that's a useful trick, in'it? Shut me up about all that circle stuff…"

Edward's smile slipped to a smaller one as he turned to face Harry.

"So there you have it, what I can do for you. Dumbledore did pick me, out of all the other State Alchemists and Military officials in our land. I don't know why, exactly, but he said my skills could help you, Harry, and I intend to do my job, and do it well."

Harry looked at him, obviously caught off guard by his speech. He regained his composure, and gave a sheepish smile, but held his gaze steady as he nodded at Edward and thanked him.

No sooner had the table been set when the food came floating out from the kitchen, and had set themselves right on the surface. Edward noticed his stomach gnawing at him for the first time. He spoke very little when they finally sat down to eat, so busy serving himself ham, potatoes, and a large helping of soup. Harry himself had only survived off of stale birthday cake and left overs from the Dursley's home. What lay before the boys was a feast, while to everyone else, it was dinner.

Edward listened in on the conversation of others keeping his gaze to his food. Perhaps not for hunger, but for perhaps some peace of mind. He listened in as Percy and his father had a conversation about the Ministry. The way Percy spoke gave Edward the impression that he was a very up-tight person, and he wasn't too far off from that guess. Work, it seemed, was the only thing on the young man's mind.

"We're just not getting the help we need from the Department of Magical Games and Sports," said Percy, "Ludo Bagman—"

"I like Ludo," said Mr. Weasley, mildly. "He's the one who got us such good seats for the tournament."

"Oh Ludo is _likeable_ enough, of course," said Percy dismissively. "But how he ever got to be Head of the Department…"

Ed's attention waned for a moment and he went listening around for any other conversation. His interest was immediately peaked again when Percy mention that someone had gone missing.

"You realize Bertha Jorkins has been missing for over a month now? Went on holiday to Albania and never came back."

"Yes, I was asking Ludo about that," said Mr. Weasley frowned, "He said Bertha's gotten lost plenty of times before now—though I must say that if I were in her department, I'd be worried…"

"Oh Bertha's _hopeless_, all right. I hear she's been shunned from department to department for years now, much more trouble than she's worth…but all the same, Bagman ought to be trying to find her."

"So why hasn't he?" asked Edward.

Percy and Mr. Weasley turned their attention with some surprise to Edward. They said nothing for a moment, allowing Edward to ask again.

"If there's a missing persons in the Ministry for so long, then why hasn't anyone filled out a case order to find her?"

"Ah, well," said Percy. He gave a look to his father, who nodded at him to continue, pleased by the budding interest of a young person in the affairs of the Ministry. Percy cleared his throat and began again. "You see, Mr. Crouch, my boss, has been, in fact, taking a personal interest. She use to work in our department, after all, and I think Mr. Crouch was quite fond of her—but Bagmen just keeps laughing and saying she misread the map and is somewhere in Australia instead of Albania. However," with an impressive sigh and a long sip from Elder Flower wine, "we've got quite enough on our plates at the Department of International Magical Cooperation without trying to find members of other departments too. Bertha's disappearance is only a small fragment of a tip of an iceburg of headaches"

He turned back to his father when he next spoke.

"You've been hearing those rumors about those strange cases in Albania as well, haven't you? Apparently there's some kind of monster roaming the forests."

"Oh, that trouble," nodded Mr. Weasley. "Yes, it's all just someone's imagination running away with them."

"Oh I agree, and so does Mr. Crouch. After all, who ever heard of little dwarves with bug antennas and yellow eyes? It's all nonsense, yet we're still getting these complaints. If you ask me, it's a ploy for tourism."

"Perhaps that's why Bertha went out there."

"Perhaps, but I never would have thought she was crazy long with being useless. I mean, forgive me, it might just be out of curiosity. Who knows, maybe the monsters did get her."

"Oh, don't say things like that,"

"Well it's all just a mess. We've got this on our plate, as well as…you know," he cleared his throat a little, his voice raising slightly "we've got another big event to organize after the World Cup."

Percy cleared his throat significantly and looked down the end of the table where Harry, Ron, and Hermione all sat next to Edward.

"You know the one I'm talking about, Father. The top-secret one."

Edward heard a soft scoff and turned to look at Ron.

"He's been like this all summer," he whispered, to both Harry and Edward. "Trying to get us to ask him what he's talking about, but nobody has. It's probably just some exhibition on extra thick cauldron bottoms."

"Dumbledore mentioned something about an event," said Edward.

"He must have been talking about the World Cup," nodded Ron. "That's the biggest Quidditch match of the season."

Harry and Ron went on to talk about said event. They were talking about the teams, and who would be competing. While listening, he learned that the others would all be headed to a Quidditch event the following morning. He felt his heart give an uncomfortable flip, as he remembered that Arthur had said something of the matter of tickets. He didn't suppose that there was a spare one, with so many people already attending.

"Hey, hold on," said Ron, "you're not going with us, are you, Ed?"

"Looks like it," he said, taking in another mouthful of potatoes, hiding his disappointment.

"Guess you don't know what Quidditch is anyway, do ya? So you won't really be missing out on anything, right?"

"Oh yeah?" asked Edward. "I'm pretty sure I could understand it. Try me."

"Oh-ho, you think so?" asked Ron.

"What's that suppose to mean?"

"It confused me the first time I heard of it," Harry interjected. "I'm sure that's all Ron is saying."

"Here," said George, "We'll list off some of the basics first."

"Number one, the broom," smiled Fred. "You ride it. Understood? Good? Moving on."

Harry and Ron laughed, and even Edward cracked a smile as the twins continued.

Dinner finished, and dessert was presented as a batch of home made strawberry ice cream. Edward took out a small journal from his back pocket and wrote it down, deciding then that he'd help Alphonse in his list of food stuffs he'd have to try when they got his body back while in the country. Harry looked over to Ed as he wrote.

"Is that a journal?"

"Yup," he finished writing and held it up. "I just write some notes of things I've learned here and there. It's handy for any scientist."

"So what did you write just now?"

"Ah," he gave a short laugh, clearing his throat. "That Mrs. Weasley's dessert is really good. I want to remember to tell my brother about it."

"Your brother? I think you said something about him earlier. Is he an Alchemist too?"

"Yeah, we trained together."

"Why didn't he come with you?"

Edward faltered for a moment.

"It would be easier to keep a low profile if there was only one other person tailing you and acting like a friend, that's all. Plus, he has work he need to carry out while I'm gone. Like I said, it's inconvenient for me to be here."

"Then why did you agree?"

"I…"

Edward's brain scrambled for another excuse.

"That…umm…money."

Harry raised an eyebrow.

"Money?"

"Yeah. Money. Dumbledore is paying pretty handsomely to keep you safe, _haha_."

He wore a smile with great confidence, but to Harry, he could see something nervous in Edward's eyes, something that gave that broad and friendly grin away. He merely nodded and turned back to his food. He wondered what it was that Edward might be hiding, and if he was this bad at lying, how were things at Hogwarts going to go. He sighed and pushed the thought out of his mind as she spooned another bite of ice cream into his mouth.

After dessert, it was time for bed. The boys set up another cot for Edward. It was tricky to get another one in the room, and when they were finished, there was hardly any room for anyone to step.

The two boys changed out of their cloths and into sleeping ones, but Edward hesitated. He grabbed his right arm in thought, wondering if he should reveal it or not. It was not for sake of modesty that he grabbed his bag and left to change in the bathroom.

"Hey, Ron," whispered Harry when Edward had left.

"Wot?" asked Ron, who was laying his sheets on his bed, his back facing Harry.

"I don't think Edward is telling us everything."

"Don't worry mate, we got a whole year to work him over," he shrugged. "The guy shut my bloody mouth today, didn't he? Bloody heel, I didn't think he'd actually be able to do any of what he was talking about. For a while I thought he was just some nutter mum let in."

"Yeah…it's very different. Even Bill and Charlie didn't know how Edward had done it."

"I guess Dumbledore really is looking after you."

"He wouldn't need to if there wasn't something going on. Either he told Edward to not tell me, or he really didn't tell Edward anything."

"Well, which do you think?" Ron sat down on his cot, now facing his friend.

"Dunno. I just hope it's all for nothing."

Their conversation was cut short by the appearance of Edward. He came back in long sweatpants and a long-sleeve shirt, he had his gloves still on.

"What are you wearing those for?" asked Ron.

"I'm cold," he replied simply, climbing over their beds to get to his.

"It's summer, mate."

"It gets cold at night," he crawled in the bed and turned over without another look to the two of them. Harry and Ron exchanged a look, but said nothing in return.

Lights were turned off soon enough, and everyone exchanged goodnights. Edward's eyes peeked over to the window, where he spotted the stars. They were aligned differently than he remembered. He tried to find the southern star to give him is position, but it seemed that the window was pointed at the wrong patch of sky. Edward had never been a fan of star gazing, his interest lay at the ground and in books. Yet, that night, as he stared up into the warm dark blue sky, a shooting star rocketed high above. He smiled, sniffed and turned over. He remembered suddenly that one could have a wish if they had seen a shooting star. He thought for a moment, a wish pulling at his heart. He couldn't bring himself to say it, worried that it might tumble out like a tabooed spell. Besides, they were already working to make this wish possible. His mind reeled with wonder as to what he'd find at Hogwarts. Impatience took him, stealing away his thoughts, his breath caught in him as the anxiety took hold. At least he had seen that these Wizards and Witches were not, perhaps completely, loons. There was something here, a force that could be called Magic, but what of the Philosopher Stone that Dumbledore promised? He could do nothing, sitting in the darkness of a stranger's room, miles and miles away from the school.

He sighed to himself, and switched gears in his head. He wondered if Alphonse was alright by himself, if he was hard at work or sitting alone as the night crept by. He pushed the thought away, noticing that it created a tight knot in his chest.

Edward had only to close his eyes before sleep took hold, yet it felt like a mere blink when he was awoken. He felt someone shaking his right arm, the sound of metal clanging together.

"Edward, it's time to get—oh my," she said quietly.

He blinked and sat up, looking up at her. She was looking at his arm, curiously. He looked and noticed the collar of his shirt had slipped during the night and revealed a small portion of the metal at his collar bone. He quickly pulled it up and cleared his throat.

"Erm, I'm sorry but I don't think I need to get up," he said. Mrs. Weasley blinked, unsure of what she had seen and felt, but seemed to shrug it off in the next moment.

"Certainly you do if you wish to catch that Portkey with everyone else."

"No it's not that, it's just…I don't have a ticket."

"What do you mean you don't have a ticket? Did Dumbledore not tell you?"

"Tell me what?"

"There was a ticket along with your letter of introduction."

Edward's eyes widened, and he was surprised to feel the weight of disappointment lift from him.

"Really?" he asked, stifling the excitement.

"Of course. I'm surprised he didn't tell you. Never mind then, get dressed and come down stairs."

Edward looked around the room and noticed that the other two boys had already dressed and gone. Edward sat up as well and rubbed the back of his neck. He looked up to Mrs. Weasley, expecting her to leave the room, but she had stopped at the doorway and turned to look at him. She had a thoughtful face on, the one Edward could remember his own mother having after her boys had broken a book shelf.

"Ma'am?"

"You seem to have hurt your arm," she said, "Some time ago, I mean."

Edward's face dropped, and he looked away as his mind scrambled for something to say. He didn't want to lie, yet he didn't want to tell the truth, not just yet. He barely knew these people.

"If it hurts, just let me know. We have remedies in the house for aches and pains."

He looked back at her with a smile.

"So, you know what this is then?"

"No, but, I'm sure it's too long of a story to get into now. If you don't hurry down stairs there'll be no more breakfast left for you."

She left, and Edward dressed himself quickly and hurried down the stairs. He carried with him a light rucksack, as he had been informed that these Quiddich matches could sometimes go on for days! When he got down stairs, he sat himself down on an empty chair next to Hermione.

"Good morning, Edward," she smiled. "I didn't expect to see you up."

"As it turns out, I'm able to go along with everyone. Dumbledore had gotten me a ticket."

"What?" said Ron, "Dumbledore got a ticket?"

"Of course he did," said Hermione, "Dumbledore is a famous wizard. He must have some way of getting a hold of a ticket for Edward."

"Still, we didn't get those tickets together," said Harry, "I hope Edward can still sit with us."

"Y-yeah," nodded Edward.

"Don't worry about it, Ed," said Fred, "We'll get ya to sit with us, somehow."

"Yeah," said George, "We can't have a Muggle getting lost in a Quiddich World Cup. They'd probably wipe your memory and send you off to some other city."

Mr. Weasley walked in then, dressed in a sweater and pants that were a little too large for him and held up by a thick leather belt.

"Morning, everyone," he said. There was a row of low 'good morning's in response. "How do I look, Harry, Edward?" he asked, anxiously. "We're suppose to go incognito—do I look like a Muggle, boys?"

"Yeah," said Harry smiling, "very good."

"You certainly look the part," nodded Edward.

"Where's Bill and Charlier and Per-Per-Percy?" asked Fred, failing at stifling a yawn.

"Well they're Apparating, over, aren't they?" said Mrs. Weasley, heaving a huge pot of porridge over to the table and starting to ladle porridge into bowls. Edward couldn't remember the last time he ate so well. "So they can have a bit of a lie-in."

"So they're still in bed?" said Fred grumpily, pulling his bowl close to him. "Why can't we Apparate too?"

"Because you're not of age and you haven't passed your test yet."

"You have to pass a test to Apparate?" asked Harry.

"Oh yes," said Mr. Weasley, "tucking the tickets in the back of his blue jeans pocket. "It's not easy, Apparition, and when it's not done properly it can lead to nasty complications. There was a pair recently who Splinched themselves."

Everyone around the table winced, save for Edward and Harry.

"Er—_Splinched_?" asked Harry.

Edward took out his small journal and the pencil that he kept with it and began to write.

"They left half of themselves behind," said Mr. Weasley, now spooning large amounts of porridge into his own bowl. "So of course they were stuck, couldn't move either way. Had to wait for the Magical Reversal Squad to sort them out. Meant a fat old bit of paper work, I can tell you, what with the Muggels who spotted the body parts left behind…"

"So it killed them?" asked Ed, horrified.

"No, no, nothing of the sort," said Mr. Weasley. They were just a bit stuck in two planes, that's all."

"Like not being able to fit all the way past a hole in the wall?"

"Something like that, yeah, I'd imagine. No, they weren't hurt, at any rate. Had to pay a nasty fine though."

"So Apparition is essentially teleporting?"

"Vanishing and reappearing in a different place," said Harry.

"Percy just passed his test last week," said Ron, "he's been popping from his room to down stairs every morning just to prove that he can."

Edward began to write in his journal, once again.

Harry watched him write, curious to see what kind of notes an Alchemist took. His eyes wandered over some scribbled words, and was surprised to find something familiar written in the book. His attention was cut short by Mrs. Weasley's stern voice.

"George!"

"What?" he asked, in an innocent tone that deceived nobody.

"What's that in your pocket?"

"Nothing!"

"Don't you lie to me!"

Mrs. Weasley pointed her wand at George's pocket and said, "_Accio_."

Harry watched the Ton Tongue Toffees roll out of his pocket and to the ground. He turned back to see what Edward was writing, but the boy had put the book away. He wondered silently to himself if he had really seen what was written in Edward's book. Edward turned back to Harry, feeling his gaze on him.

"What?" he asked. The family row was still going on, and Fred and George were adamant about keeping those toffees. They had all of their hiding places being revealed to their mother through the _Accio_ spell. The dispute even seemed to cause Edward some distress, but this was understandable. Harry had felt his heart leap to his throat when Mrs. Weasley got to scolding her sons, though all she had ever shown him was kindness.

"Nothing," whispered Harry, giving a weak smile. Edward smiled back, nodding to the commotion that held the other's attention.

"Not use to that,"

"You do get to be though, eventually."

The rest of the morning held an unfriendly atmosphere. When it was finally time to go, Mrs. Weasley was at the doorway, sending them off. She was still glowering as she kissed Mr. Weasley off, though not nearly as much as the twins, who had grabbed their rucksacks and walked out of the room without a word to her.

"Well, have fun all of you, and _behave your selves,_" she shouted out after the twins. Edward passed by her, Mrs. Weasley tapped him on the shoulder.

"Have fun at your first Quidditch match. Have Harry and the others explain it to you, and I'm sure you'll have fun," she smiled.

Edward, unsure of what to say, nodded and gave a smile back to her.

"Of course," he said.

The group headed out on their journey, Edward noticing as the up hill hike had begun to take a toll on Hermione.

"You all right?"

"Just fine," she nodded, "Just a bit tired. It is so early in the morning."

"You getting a stich?"

"Yeah, a bit, but it's nothing," yet her hand went to her side, all the same. "This must seem very weak to you. You are a soldier, aren't you? I assumed so after you said you could fight."

"That's what I'm told," he nodded. "All State Alchemists must act as soldiers, and are required to go to war if necessary."

"That doesn't scare you?"

"Not too much."

"Why did you go into the Military?"

"I…well. It's a little personal."

"Oh, right, sorry," she nodded. "We don't have soldiers, but we have those who oppose Dark Magic, called Aurors. Not really the same I suppose, but they are called into action if there is a war. Harry wants to be one when he gets older."

"Really?" he turned to look at Harry, who had heard the conversation and turned back.

"Ah…well, yeah. It's just one option."

They finally had made it to the top of the hill, with Hermione trailing behind them, clutching a stich at her side.

"Ten minutes to spare, we made good time," said Mr. Weasley, whipping his glasses on his sweater. "Now all we need is the Portkey" replacing his glasses and squinting. "It must be around here somewhere. It won't be big…come on."

They had only a few minutes of searching before a voice rent the still air.

"Over here Arthur! Over here, son, we've got it!"

Two tall figures were silhouetted against the starry night sky.

"Amos," smiled Mr. Weasley. He strode over to the man, extending his hand to shake it. The group followed.

He shook the hand of the ruddy faced wizard, with a scrubby brown beard, who was holding a moldy old looking boot in his hand. Edward marveled at the fact that not but a day ago, he would have thought all these people mad for going to so much trouble over finding a boot. He sighed and looked at the stars as the men spoke, Mr. Weasley beginning to introduce everyone to the man.

"This is Amos Diggory, everyone. He works for the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. And I think you know his son, Cedric?"

From what Edward could see through the darkness, Cedric was a handsome looking fellow, of perhaps seventeen. He noticed a bit of timidity that seemed out of character for a boy of his build. His eyes kept flicking to Harry Potter. He spoke finally, giving a "Hi" that would have hid that which his body already gave away. Everyone said hi back, except for Fred and George, who just eyed the boy. Edward had no idea what the strange tension was about, and merely returned his gaze to the scene about him.

"Long walk, Arthur?" asked Amos.

"Not too bad," said Mr. Weasley. "We live just on the other side of the village there. You?"

"Had to get up at two, didn't we, Ced? I tell you, I'll be glad when he passes his Apperation test. Still…not complaining…Quidditch World Cup, wouldn't miss it for a sack full of Gallons—and the tickets cost about that. Looks like I got it off easy. Are these all yours, Arthur?"

"Ah, no, no, only the redheads. This is Hermione, friend of Ron's-and Harry—another friend—and this one is—"

"Merlin's beard," said Amos, his eyes widening. "Harry? Harry Potter?"

"Er—yeah," replied Harry.

Edward watched quietly, unminding of being ignored. The was Amos's eyes flick from Harry's forehead and back to his eyes was an odd sight to him. Arthur hadn't even mentioned the boy's last name, but the man had jumped all over the opportunity. He then grabbed is son by the shoulder, still talking to Harry.

"Ced's talked about you, of course, told us all about playing against you last year, I said to him, I said, Ced, that's something you'll tell your grandchildren, that will…_You beat Harry Potter_!"

Had Edward knew what it was to be famous, of sorts. He knew what it was to be big with the high ranking officers and big named Alchemists, even recognized in the streets by the people, but that was from merit of his skills, and never of any of his misfortunes. He felt himself embarrassed for the boy. As far as the records showed, he was most well known for the death of his parents, and what a thing to be famous for. The boy who lived, being the little victory pedestal for those who have triumphed over him in some backwards game, other father's patting their son's on the shoulders. Perhaps it wasn't as mean spirited as Amos had intended, but to Edward, it felt insulting.

"And who's this?" asked Amos, his attention turned to Edward.

"Ah, this is Edward, another friend of Ron's," replied Arthur.

"Do you go to Hogwarts?" asked Amos, eyeing the boy's striking red coat. Harry stiffened slightly.

"I will be attending this year," he replied simply.

"A transfer student?"

"Yes sir."

He heard Harry give a soft sigh of relief to his right.

"Do you know if we're waiting for any more, Amos?" asked Arthur.

"Not that I know of. The Lovegoods should be there already, and the Fawcetts couldn't get tickets. There aren't any more of us in this area, are there?"

"Not that I know of," said Mr. Weasley. "It's about a minute off, we'd better get ready."

Everyone touched their finger to the boot, waiting as Mr. Weasley counted down. Edward took in a deep breath, then felt the wrenching sensation of something having latched on to his belly button and begun pulling him through a hole. The lights flashed around him, different than before. More tame, darker, but still spinning and spinning. His feet finally touched ground, but once again his body fell under it's own weight. He picked himself up, and looked around. His heart leapt to his throat, for he was alone in a grey foggy moor.

"Seven past five from Stoatshead Hill," said a voice.

Edward turned, but saw no one. He wasn't too sure he had heard anything, and in the next moment he had forgotten all together. Suddenly he felt his mind beginning to go…as if slipping out of conscious thought…and then it were as though he were falling backwards, tumbling out of his body…into some unfamiliar misty void.

888

_(A.N: Hello everyone! Merry Christmas! This chapter was a lot of fun to write! I hope you found it just as fun to read. Please tell me what you think, if I've made any error, grammar or cannon-wise. I always love to hear from you guys! I don't have a BETA reader yet, so if someone wants to help out, I'd be most grateful._

_~Spheral3)_


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